Sicko

by Amo Jones

  My mouth curves sadly. “Your kid is lucky.” Shoving my phone into my back pocket, his next words halt me.

  “How do you know that? I could be the worst thing that ever happened to that kid.”

  My fingers flex in my hands. “Impossible.”

  “How so?” he asks, flashing me a crooked grin.

  “Because I know what that looks like, and you don’t have his smile.”

  His face falls, but not in an offended way, more shocked. “Excuse me.” I move away from my chair, turning to wave goodbye to Wicked. Royce is already exiting the room, but Wicked? Wicked is glaring at me like he’s just seen a ghost. The room is empty, quiet aside from the music playing through the house. Something is moving inside his brain and I’m not sure I want to know what that is.

  I smile at Wicked softly before running to catch up to Royce.

  Once we move through the sea of people and hit the front door, I jog down the steps to reach for him. “Where are we going?” I for sure thought he was leaving me here so he could go fuck Bea.

  He flinches away from me, staying quiet until we’re far enough away from people and near his bike. “Taking you back to yours. Changed my mind.”

  I pause, crossing my arms. “Why the sudden change?” Now that it’s just us with no spectators, it seems anything we both say to each other is real. Raw.

  He stops, taking me in from head to toe. “What was that about? What you just said?” His expression turns hard, and even though it’s dark out, the lights from the house offer enough to take in the outline of his face. “Jade.”

  Jade. Not Duchess.

  “Nothing, just that I know what cruelty looks like and he didn’t seem like that to me.”

  “You don’t know a fucking thing about Lion.” His lip curls around his teeth, but I get the feeling the snarl is toward me, not about his feelings of Lion. It’s obvious how much Royce loves Lion. “I’m going to ask you once.”

  My blood turns cold as he takes a step closer. Don’t ask me anything, because I will have to lie.

  “Has someone hurt you?”

  My mouth slams closed, my jaw locked tight. I stay focused on the small patch that’s sewn into his leather that reads Rip. Vice President. Fingers wrap around my chin, his chest to mine as he brings my head up so my eyes come to his.

  His eyebrows knit together. “Tell me, Jade.”

  I don’t say a word, the syllables sticking to my throat and unwilling to come out.

  His thumb swipes at the bottom rim of my lip. “If anyone has hurt you while I’ve been away.” His mouth slams closed and the muscles on either side of his jaw pulse. “I’ll fucking kill them, and that’s not a threat. That’s a goddamn promise.” My legs wobble beneath my weight, my restraint pulling against me. I want to tell him everything.

  I open my mouth, but just as words are about to slip out, Bea interrupts. “You’re not staying?” she whines, and I flinch away from Royce, stepping far enough away so they can talk. I find myself near Wicked’s bike. I can’t believe I was going to tell him!

  Royce narrows his eyes at me as they fall to the bike I’m near, standing close like it’s a lifeline. “Nah, you’ll be fine for tonight.” He hands me the helmet. I take the steps forward to take it, my fingers gliding over the glossy white paint of Wicked’s Harley.

  “But—”

  Royce glares at her. “Leave, Bea.”

  Bea’s eyes fly between Royce and me, and I see the images flash over her eyes without her even displaying them. We’ve gotten that all our life, people assuming there’s something more to Royce and me than what there is.

  “Fine. Call me?”

  “Never,” he says bluntly, and then turns back to me and points to his bike. “Get on.” Sighing, I swing my leg over the back and press myself against his back. His bike is loud enough to make you fucking deaf. He rides us out of the gates as they split open, before gunning it down the street and onto the highway. The air whips through the loose strands of my hair, an easy smile on my face. I will never admit it to Royce, but I love riding on the back of his bike.

  Thirty minutes later, we’re pulling up to campus, the bike echoing through the empty streets as he comes up to the dorms. He cuts the bike off and pauses as I swing my leg off while removing his helmet. I squeeze the cord in my hand, ready to hand it back to him and leave. The air is quiet, with just him and I standing so close. So intimate.

  “I couldn’t bring you with me.” His voice is low, soft. As if he didn’t want to say the words, but knew he needed to give me something. “There’s a fucking lot that you don’t know, Duchess. I couldn’t have you around me. I couldn’t take you. I knew you’d be safe at home.”

  My heart snaps in my chest. “Oh how uncanny,” I whisper, fighting the tears that are battling to burst down my cheeks. If I cry, I know it will be all over and he’ll fight me until I tell him what I’m hiding. “You’re not the only one with secrets, Royce.”

  He tilts his head, the veins in his neck swelling to the surface. “What’s that supposed to mean, Jade?” I don’t miss the bite in his tone. “See, when you say shit like that, it makes me want to kill people. Do you understand my problem here?”

  “You’re too pretty for jail?” I joke sadly, smirking.

  “No.” His eyes fall to my lips when my tongue slides over them. “I never get caught.”

  I hand him the helmet, and my heart explodes when his hand comes to mine. He could have grabbed it anywhere else, but he chose the exact area where my hand was to take it. My teeth sink into the inside of my cheek, tasting blood. I need to distract myself from doing something like expose the affect Royce has on me. “Night, Roy.”

  I pull my hand away from his first, sliding out beneath it while catching one of his heavy rings.

  His eyes stay on mine. “Night, Duchess.”

  I quickly make my way up to the dorms, fighting the urge to turn back around and do something stupid like ask him to take me anywhere but here, but I have to remember that he’s not the same boy. At times, I see the old Royce, but then I remember where we are now, how our lives are so different, how even when we were kids, he never looked at me like anything other than a fucking nuisance.

  Once I’m safe and back in my dorm, I hear his bike start and pull away. I go to sleep that night wishing life was different.

  I wake the next morning with memories of last night flashing inside of my head and my phone ringing on the ground. I blindly reach for it, quickly swiping it to answer.

  “Hello?”

  “Oh, thank god! You’re alive!” Sloane yells on the other end. “Tell me everything.”

  I groan, covering my closed eyes with the palm of my hand. “I don’t know. We went back to the clubhouse and he brought me home. What happened to you last night?”

  Sloane exhales. “Ollie and I had a fight.”

  “You don’t say…” I roll my eyes, reaching for the curtain and ripping it open. The only way I’m going to get out of bed this morning is if the sun beams through my windows. I’m shit out of luck because it’s goddamn raining. Sighing, I close the curtains again. “Why did you fight?” Even though I know why. They’re too alike.

  “He just got really drunk and started going off on everyone, so I tried to stop him and well, in short, I shouldn’t have.”

  Sighing, I massage my temples and swing my legs over my bed. “Are you okay?”

  “Always. Hey, are you working tonight?”

  “It’s Saturday, you know I always do.” For years now, Sloane has been under the impression that I work from home for my parents. She’s bought it. I made up a whole bunch of shit saying that I work for the company, trading numbers for work experience. I wish that was what I really was doing.

  She sighs through the phone. “Well promise me lunch tomorrow so we can talk properly.”

  “Come back to bed!” I hear Ollie in the background.

  “Sloane!” I scold her.

  “Gotta go, bye!”

  I l
augh, shaking my head. She’s useless.

  5 Unread text messages

  I open my messages and go to the most recent one.

  Royce: That conversation last night isn’t over.

  I close his message and go to the next one.

  Unknown: It’s Silver! This is my number. PS Bea was super pissed when you and Sicko left.

  Unknown: Save my number, sweetie. It’s Bonnie.

  Sloane: You and Royce have the longest sex buildup in history. I feel like when you both finally fuck, he’s going to accidentally kill you.

  My eyes roll to the back of my head. Sloane has always shipped me and Royce. She’s crazy. Flicking open the final message, it’s another unknown number.

  Unknown: Yeah, I would.

  I pause, my fingers flexing over the keypad on my screen. Ignoring the other messages, out of impulse, I reply who’s this? Before working back through the previous messages. Flipping off Sloane with an emoji, saying thank you to Bonnie, sending laughing faces to Silver, and then finally I’m here on Royce’s message. My heart pounds in my chest.

  Don’t.

  Tossing my phone on my bed, I move through my room, gathering everything I need for a shower. Since I’ll most likely be dressed in something uncomfortable tonight, I take out some gray yoga pants, and a loose Thrasher t-shirt, it’s casual enough to lounge in. After my shower, I reach for my phone again and see three new texts.

  I open Royce’s first, since he scares me most.

  Royce: Be there in three minutes.

  “Fuck.” I make my bed quickly while plaiting my hair in a French braid, allowing it to fall down my back. I finally go to open the next text message, but there’s a loud bang on my door. Squeezing the handle, I swing it open to Royce and Wicked.

  “Really, you shouldn’t have,” I say to Royce, batting my eyelashes.

  He moves me out of the way as they both enter, kicking the door closed. “Mom get you this?” Royce gestures around the room. “She really went all out on you, didn’t she?”

  I squeeze my phone in my hand, my eyes flying to the photograph of me, Royce, Orson, and Storm out on the boat when we were kids. “Sure did. Guess that’s what happens when one kid leaves the other behind.”

  Wicked takes a seat on the chair tucked under my desk, as quiet as ever. His silence isn’t uncomfortable. It’s easy. His presence, on the other hand, is intense.

  Royce sits on my bed. “What are you doing tonight? Bonnie and Silver want you to come to hog-out.”

  I peer down at my phone, knowing that the unknown number must have replied, only when I read the text that’s on my phone, my eyes fly to Wicked.

  You’re staring at him.

  How did Wicked get my number and does Royce know?

  “Ah, I can’t. I have work. What’s a hog-out?”

  “Work?” Royce’s face scrunches. “Since the fuck when do our parents let you work? It’s a BBQ, Jade.”

  “She’s lying,” Wicked says, his eyes on mine.

  “Am not,” I snap at Wicked. “Every Saturday, I work for our parents. What?” I shuffle uncomfortably. It’s not ideal having them both in my space, especially when I’m trying to contain the biggest secret I’ve ever held, and Wicked is too smart. Shit. Am I already showing my cards? I square my shoulders. “I run numbers for him and in return, they’re giving me all of this.”

  Royce’s eyes narrow as he swipes his hand over his lips. His hair is messy, his eyes dark. “Makes no sense, Duchess. You have a trust account. You don’t need to work for all this.”

  Fuck.

  I shrug, falling onto my soft mattress. “Doesn’t have to make sense for it to be true.”

  “What time do you finish?” he asks, standing back to his feet. “I need to put one of the brothers on you.”

  “What?” I say, scowling up at him. “What do you mean you need to put one of them on me?”

  Royce glares. “It means I need to make sure someone knows where you are at all times.”

  “Why!” I snap. “Royce, I just started a new college, you haven’t been a part of my life in forever, and now suddenly you’re all over me like a rash.”

  He laughs, but the chilling sound is like fire has being ignited down my spine. His legs hit my bed, his hands around my thighs, pulling me down while pinning my hands above my head with his.

  “Royce,” I urge, flashing to Wicked. “Really.”

  He turns to look over his shoulder to see Wicked. “Oh, what? him? You don’t have to worry about Wicked.”

  I clench my teeth shut.

  “I’m not all over you, Jade, I’m trying to make sure that you don’t fucking die, and that’s not because I give a fuck about your existence, that’s because I don’t want to turn Mom into an even worse alcoholic than what she is.”

  “Oh yeah?” I say, a flash of anger washing over me. “Then what was that speech about last night when you were all ‘who hurt you, Jade. Tell me, Jade. I would go to jai—’” His hand is at my throat, his fingers flexing to cut off my rant.

  He leans down, his mouth on my ear. “Say the next words and see what fucking happens.”

  I lean up, my nose touching his, eyes crossed from his proximity. “You—” His tongue slides across my mouth and my insides solidify, either from shock or sheer emotion. Probably a combination of both.

  Royce chuckles, pushing up from the bed. “Since I can’t beat you and then fuck you—in that order—I’ll just have to lick you every time you want to open that fucking mouth. Slim will be on your tail,” he says, heading for the exit. “So don’t do anything fucking stupid.” When he opens the door, my eyes find Wicked.

  For a second, it’s just he and I. He stands, towering over my small frame. “You’re lying. He knows it, but thinks he doesn’t care right now, but Jade, when he finds out whatever it is that you’re hiding, it’s going to be catastrophic, so do me a favor.”

  I pause, peering up at him from under my lashes.

  “Don’t fucking tell him.” Then he turns and heads for the door. Blowing out a breath of air, I fall back on my bed, confusion warping my vision. I wouldn’t tell Royce anything anyway, but the problem with that is that Royce and I usually pick up on each other’s feelings. We were linked from birth, and I fear that the more time we spend around one another, the quicker our souls are figuring that out.

  I open the text to Wicked.

  Me: Does he know you’re texting me?

  It’s probably a stupid question, but I have to know. I can’t read Wicked or the vibe that he sends out, but I also don’t think he’d do anything to upset Royce either. I can’t believe I’m going to say it, but I think they’re even closer than Royce is, or was, to Orson and Storm. Storm and I still keep in contact occasionally, but not so much Orson. He’s all famous and rich, and living his best life in Hollywood Hills with India, but I know that if I turn up on his doorstep, or need anything, he’s still the brother I grew to love. I wonder if Royce keeps in contact with them both, bet he does.

  My phone sounds off in my hand and I open the text.

  Wicked: No.

  I read over the word again. And then again. Maybe I read him wrong, or maybe whatever it is that is going on between Wicked and I is completely platonic. I don’t know what to write back, so I put my phone down and pull out my textbooks, flipping through the pages.

  A few hours later, I stretch my arms above my head, catching the time. “Shit.” My phone starts ringing on my bed. I hit answer.

  “Jade,” James says. “Be ready in fifteen minutes.”

  “Yes,” I whisper. I got so lost in my studying that I lost track of time. Unacceptable. I usually need an hour to talk myself into what’s about to happen. Since the last time James and I were together, things have shifted somewhat. He’s turning harder. Angrier.

  I quickly remove my clothes and slip into a tight black crop top with thin straps and long high waisted black pants, pairing them with my blood-red Valentino shoes and Gucci belt.

  “F
uck!” I pick up my phone, finding J’s name and hitting dial, hoping he picks up in time.

  “Yes?”

  “We have a problem.”

  “What is it?” James asks. I can hear the sound of cars in the background, so he must be on his way.

  “Royce has put one of his friends on watch for me. I don’t know why, but I think, well I’m assuming, that person will be down in the parking lot. They can’t see me going out, they’ll ask questions.”

  “Yes they can, Jade. Tell them you have a business meeting with one of your out of town bosses. Which you do.”

  My palms sweat with nerves. “That should work.”

  “I’ll see you in fifteen.” He hangs up on me, and I look around my room nervously. I know that Royce will lose his shit if he thinks I lied to him, and on top of that, Wicked is smarter than he looks. What if he starts putting the breadcrumbs together and figures out what I’ve been hiding?

  I open a text to Royce, hoping he’s too drunk to read into anything.

  Me: Just so you know, work tonight is an outing with one of my overseas bosses and her colleague.

  I put my phone down and rush through my makeup, and then run a brush through my hair.

  Royce: What? Where?

  Me: Roy, I’m safe with them. Your boy can stay here until I get back.

  There’s a long pause, and I’m only just heading out of my dorm room when another text comes through.

  Royce: I want you to get dropped off here after.

  My fingers fly over my keypad furiously as I make my way down to the elevators. I hit the ground button.

  Me: Where’s here, and I don’t know how late I’m going to be? And also, I don’t want to go to the clubhouse dressed in what I’m wearing. I also don’t know what kind of mood James is going to be in. He may not want to drop me there.

  My heels click against the floor once I reach the bottom.

  Royce: Clubhouse, and it’s nonnegotiable.

  Pushing through the doors, I make my way out to J’s Maserati. Thank god for tinted windows.

  A bike catches my eye parked in the corner, with an even younger guy than Gypsy on it, a hoodie over his head. He salutes me while firing up his bike.